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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329699">Detention</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_Wreaver/pseuds/LadyStrangeandUnusual'>LadyStrangeandUnusual (Dream_Wreaver)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown &amp; King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Musicalbabes, Student/Teacher Roleplay, beetlebabes, school sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:02:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_Wreaver/pseuds/LadyStrangeandUnusual</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow up to Stripes and Plaid, but can be read as a stand-alone. Lydia gets in trouble, and it's partially (all) Beej's fault. So how can the striped demon help out his ladylove this time?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Detention</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Heyo! It's been a bit. Sorry, my birthday was this week and I couldn't get this done in time. But here it is, my belated gift to you in honor of my birthday. Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The biggest problem with having a supernatural spouse was that the laws of mundane, mortal society were rarely something that applied to them, or that they even cared about. Why bother when you could bend reality to your whim at the slightest instance you felt like it? Especially when the only thing capable of stopping them was usually some sort of respect for their partner. And lucky for Lydia Deetz, her husband was a demon who cared neither for rules nor respecting them, even if she asked him to for the sake of keeping her out of trouble. Case in point, he’d since decided he’d gotten bored with hanging around the house and -having nothing better to do in a town like Winter River- had started following her to school. Ever since the day she'd called on him because she was so horny she couldn't think straight for a quickie in a closet he’d found the learning institution she attended a much more diverting experience than simply haunting a house with the most boring freaks he’d ever met. And worse, he tried to frame it like he was being considerate instead of selfish,</p><p>“I’m just trying to think of <em> you </em> babes,” he argued, “If I’m with ya, y’don’t need to worry about calling me for anything.”</p><p>“How altruistic,” Lydia had remarked, “To know you’re here for me and not simply to ogle teenage girls in catholic school girl uniforms,”</p><p>“Only teenage girl in a school girl uniform I wanna ogle is <em> you </em> babes,”</p><p>She felt like Mary, except instead of having a little lamb that could make people laugh, she had a striped, perverted demon who liked to cause chaos for the sake of making <em> himself </em> laugh and no one else. Thankfully he’d yet to do anything that could tie her to any of his mischief, but with her luck it was only a matter of time. Especially when there was one person in the school who would love nothing more than to see her publicly humiliated.</p><p>Claire Brewster, of the Long Island Brewsters, or so she claimed. Rich by small town standards and allegedly the only person her father had managed to convince to make the move down to Connecticut. Lydia had honestly never heard of her or the Brewster family before showing up as a new student at Miss Shannon’s on the first day. And by then Claire had already nicely integrated herself as the most popular girl in school. The several people willing to talk to her with no reason to lie claimed they’d never seen her before this year, so it was anyone’s guess as to whether or not she was telling the truth about that. What <em> was </em> true, however, was that Claire <em> hated </em> Lydia, and after being on the receiving end of one too many of Claire’s childish pranks Lydia could safely say the feeling was mutual. But, despite how much she <em> burned </em> to, Lydia refused to retaliate. Claire was the type to cry wolf at the drop of a hat, and any time anything went wrong she was quick to blame someone else. Lydia was barely able to prove her innocence to Miss Shannon when it <em> wasn’t </em> her fault. She wasn’t about to do something that actually was.</p><p>The problem was, was that she had only her husband to vent to about it. The Maitlands were too kind-hearted, her father wouldn’t tolerate anything that could interfere with his business, and Delia would recommend some sort of new age meditation technique to help her let go of her anger, which wouldn’t solve the root cause of the problem. But Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice justified her anger, afforded her the knowledge that she was in the right and that Claire Brewster <em> needed </em> to pay. That revenge was warranted. But the problem was that his definition of revenge and the average person’s were two very different things. For all his flaws, Beetlejuice had one thing he took seriously, and that was his haunting. He didn’t fuck around when it came to scaring, and when he did damage, it was in permanent psychological, potentially multi-generational damage. The scars would run deep, regardless of whether they were physical or not. But since Beetlejuice was Lydia’s husband, he was <em> her </em> responsibility as far as everyone else was concerned. Which meant that she had to deploy all of the meager tools at her disposal in order to keep him from wreaking havoc on Claire anywhere except in her nightmares. Recurring nightmares that caused her to need to hide sleep deprivation wrinkles and dark circles under her eyes beneath a pound of expensive makeup was something Lydia could tolerate. One, it was artistic, and two -and more importantly- it wasn’t something Claire could pin on Lydia. Throwing the word witch at Lydia as an insult was one thing, but even Claire knew how crazy and paranoid she would seem if she tried to pin recurring nightmares on the girl.</p><p>But Beetlejuice wasn’t satisfied with simple nightmares. He grew bored easily, restless. And the temptation of juicing Claire in the middle of class where the most damage could be done to her reputation, where the crux of her social power in this town lay, was often too much. He’d yet to act on it, but only because Lydia had threatened no sex for a year if he did. She knew it would only keep him in line for so long, but she was hoping she would be able to come up with another Damoclean sword to hang over his head by the time he decided that revenge on Claire would be worth a year of celibacy they both knew neither of them had the power to actually enforce.</p><p>Unfortunately for her, her contingency plan had yet to form by the time it happened. She had nothing, and Beetlejuice has decided a better use of his snack was dropping it down Claire’s blouse. She was sure when she confronted him later he would argue it was Claire’s own fault for leaving her shirt unbuttoned as much as it had been. As Claire freaked out and started wriggling, hitting herself, and even stripping to get the insect out of her clothes, Lydia couldn't contain her mirth. She put a hand to her mouth to cover the smile and began silently shaking with laughter. But as was her luck, nothing that made her happy went unnoticed by Claire, who instantly pointed the finger at her,</p><p>“Miss Shannon!” She cried, crocodile tears falling from her eyes, “Lydia like, totally put a bug in my clothes!”</p><p>“Right…” Lydia drawled, “and how would I have done that from all the way over here, on the other side of the classroom?”</p><p>“Don’t try to confuse the situation with like, logic and stuff,” Claire objected, “Lydia’s like, the only person who would like, do something like this! She hates me, for like, absolutely no reason!”</p><p>“Miss Deetz,” came Miss Shannon’s nasally voice from the front of the classroom, “Did you put a bug on Miss Brewster’s person?”</p><p>“No Miss Shannon,” Lydia said slowly, “As I just said, I sit over here on the other side of the classroom. There would be no possible way for me to put a bug on Claire. If I had to guess, however, it was attracted to the scent of her perfume and mistook her for a flower or something.”</p><p>“I will be having none of your back sass young lady,” Miss Shannon lectured her, “Since you will not admit to your wrongdoing I am forced to give you detention. You will stay after school today and serve your sentence. Now, may we get back to the lesson?”</p><p>"Yes Miss Shannon," Lydia chorused, clearly upset but unable to protest further.</p><p>BJ BJ BJ</p><p>After class, Lydia was purposefully ignoring Beetlejuice. And not in the, “I’m in public and don’t want to look crazy” sort of way, more of the “I’m mad at you so I’m not going to talk to you because of what you did” sort of way. A difference which did not go unnoticed by the striped demon, who ceased his mirth at Claire’s expense and started pestering his wife about what he’d done wrong.</p><p>“C’mon Lyds,” he cajoled her as he floated next to her while she walked through the hallways, “Bitchster had it coming, everyone laughed at the way she freaked out.”</p><p>But Lydia remained staunchly silent as he continued to provide excuse after excuse and justification after justification. Eventually, she ducked into the bathroom to scold her husband properly. Fully expecting to have to make a pretend phone call to justify why she was upset at him she was pleasantly surprised by the empty room. And that was when she turned on him,</p><p>“I can’t believe- no wait, actually, I can believe you would do that,” Lydia chided him, folding her arms as she narrowed her eyes at him, “But I thought the prospect of no sex for an entire year would keep you from pulling anything on her on school grounds.”</p><p>“I don’t see what the big deal of location is,” Beetlejuice huffed, folding his own arms back at her.</p><p>“Because, exactly what I said was gonna happen happened,” Lydia replied, “Claire blamed me, and now <em> I’m </em> stuck in detention. Something that’s gonna go on my permanent record, not to mention that as my husband you’re <em> my </em> responsibility. So when my parents and the Maitlands find out about this, they’re gonna wonder why I didn’t stop you. I’m supposed to be the one who can even slightly control you, it’s the only reason they trust me to even be around you instead of putting up some sort of holy barrier to protect me from you!”</p><p>“That’s their fault for thinking you remotely control any of my actions,” Beetleuice scoffed, “Not yours. Besides,” he added, “Claire had it coming,”</p><p>“That’s not for you to decide!” Lydia shouted at him, “I appreciate personal revenge as much as the next girl but you have to realize there’s a time, place, and occasion for these sorts of things!”</p><p>Before Beetlejuice could reply the door slammed open, and in strode Claire herself. Looking smug and overconfident as always, still very obviously riding the high of having gotten Lydia in trouble.</p><p>“Ugh, it’s like, <em> you </em> Lydia Deetz,” somehow the sentence came out tangible and like some weird disfigured version of a hiss, “Trying to like, get revenge or something? Or are you just that, like, <em> obsessed </em> with me?”</p><p>“In case you hadn’t noticed Claire,” Lydia shot back at her, “This is a public bathroom and I was here first,”</p><p>“Watch it Deetz,” Claire hissed at her, “If you don’t I’ll like… tell the police you’re like, stalking me or whatever. Then you’ll like, get a restraining order put on you and your family will have to like, move.”</p><p>“Oh no,” Lydia deadpanned, “I would have to stay a minimum of 30 feet away from you at all times, what a tragedy. You do know, however, that you’d have to stay away from me, right?”</p><p>“Like that’d be hard,” Claire scoffed as she checked and reapplied her makeup, “No one like, wants you around anyways; it would mean I was like, doing everyone a favor or something.”</p><p>“Was there any particular reason you decided to blame the whole bug incident on me, or was it just you being your usual bitchy, petty self?” Lydia folded her arms, now far more annoyed with Claire for getting her in trouble than Beej for pulling the stunt that caused it.</p><p>“I am just like, doing my part to keep the natural order of things <em> Deetz</em>,” Claire sneered at her as she capped her lipstick. What the self-centered blonde couldn’t see was Beetlejuice seething at her very presence. Claire Brewster had been a thorn in his babes’ side for far too long, and this latest little stunt was going to be the bug that broke the demon’s back. He was barely holding himself together as it was.</p><p>“We all have our like, parts to play or else society would like, totally collapse.”</p><p>With every word she spoke Claire was digging herself deeper. Even Lydia could feel the malevolent energy building in the air as Beej glared at her. Every idle fantasy he’d ever indulged about tormenting Claire to the point of landing her in a psych ward came rushing to the forefront of his mind. Oh the ways he could torture her, physically, mentally, emotionally. He normally withheld his murderous intent at Lydia’s behest. Despite loving doing extreme psychological damage during a scare she never wanted anyone to die from their pranks. She was far too kindhearted like that. But he was waiting, waiting for her to say the one thing where he could justify his anger to Lydia. As it was he couldn’t really affect the world of the living, the bug he’d tossed on Claire being an exception as insects occupied a weird space. Considering there were bugs that feasted on the dead they existed on a plane of both the living and the dead. But then again, so was Lydia,</p><p>“My part is being like, totally pretty and totally popular. Yours is being the freak loser no one likes who’ll like, inevitably end up hanging herself or jumping off the bridge into the river,” Claire paused a moment, “And then like, everyone will get up to like, go to your funeral but like really they’ll all be taking the chance to like, skip school. At least then you’ll have done something like, useful.”</p><p>And that was it. The wrong words. Violently Beetlejuice was jerked into the past, remembering how Lydia had been ready to through herself off the roof and impale herself on a birdbath. She’d since grown out of those suicidal thoughts, but it always terrified him to remember it. He knew what lay on the other side of the veil. Lydia had been lucky enough to learn without the irreversible experience. But for someone to <em> dare </em> to claim that the only way Lydia would be useful is providing an excuse through her death to cut class, that was a line even he wouldn’t have crossed. And more importantly, it was a line Claire <em> shouldn’t </em> have crossed.</p><p>There was an eerie calm, a chilling calm. The silence of the bathroom as Beetlejuice reacted. Lydia was his lifeline, his anchor in the living world. Because of that, and because he loved her like he loved no one and nothing else, there were certain depravities he only took with her consent, because she deserved the opportunity to say no, even if he had to coerce her into saying yes. Possession had been something they’d mostly experimented with in the bedroom and there alone. The inherent eroticism of being fully inside and apart of someone else. To experience live through their eyes, their hands, their ears, nose, and mouth. There was the ultimate pleasure of being violated in a way that would leave no trace, and a symbol of ultimate unity that no one could ever hope to match. But usually, Beetlejuice would ask, sometimes with words, sometimes nonverbally, but he never entered Lydia in such a way unless she allowed him too. This time he was too angry to ask permission, and he didn’t much care whether he got it or not. Claire Brewster needed to be taught a lesson, and unfortunately the only way he could teach it to her was through Lydia.</p><p>Having done this before, it was as easy as stepping into a well worn, well loved piece of clothing. Sure, there was a bit of adjustment necessary as Lydia’s proportions and stature were quite different to his own -part of why they fit so well together. But her once honeyed eyes turned green, reptilian, and demonic. A leering grin stretched wide over her teeth, incisors looking more like gory fangs. She lifted off the ground, hovering just slightly above it. And naturally Claire didn't even notice any of it, well, not until the moment she turned around her throat was grabbed and her head was smashed violently into the mirror. A sickening crack was heard as shards of mirrored glass sank into the blonde’s skull, and rivulets of blood began running down her face. Claire was dizzy, and her vision swam in and out of focus, but she felt two things; pain, and fear. Pain was natural, she'd had her head smashed into a mirror and her body rammed against the sink with a sickening pressure placed on her windpipe. But fear… it was nothing like she'd ever felt before. Claire was well and truly terrified right now. This was not the fear of her father threatening to take away her credit cards or her car if she had somehow been caught misbehaving. This was the pants wetting terror of the realization that she had messed with someone she shouldn’t have. She was in pain, she couldn’t breathe, and there was the very real possibility that Deetz was going to kill her. And for whatever reason, she couldn’t even lift a hand to defend herself. It was like every inch of her was paralyzed with fear.</p><p>“You messed with the wrong bitch, Brewster,” Lydia hissed. But it wasn’t like it was Lydia’s voice. That was still there, but it was undercut by a deep, raspy one that hissed more than it spoke. It sounded like a gross, icky snake, “My babes may have a bleeding heart and healthy sense of self-preservation, but I’m not gonna stand here and listen to uppity bitches like you tell her her life ain’t worth nothin’ except a chance for other entitle living brats t’skip this piece a shit school fer a day.”</p><p>She grinned, cruel and malevolent and with pointed teeth Claire could have sworn weren’t always hiding behind the morose freak’s lips, “You thought the nightmares were bad Bitchster?” the not Lydia shook her head, chuckling lowly, “You ain’t seen <em> shit </em> yet. See, here’s the thing, as fun as it is to mess with you in your own head, I can have tons more fuckin’ with ya out here, ‘specially now you ain’t gonna be sure whether or not Lydia’s Lydia, or if she’s me. I can break every bone in your body, I can shrink ya down and squish ya like a grape or swallow ya whole, I can string ya up by yer own entrails and make ya dance like the lil puppet y’are. And unlike what you think about Lydia, no one is <em> actually </em> gonna miss ya. Yer parents will waste a shitton of money tryin’ t’find ya so long as the media pays attention to ‘em, then after a few years of bein’ unsuccessful they’ll move on and no one will give a shit or even remember the name Claire Brewster.”</p><p>Then she let Claire go, still hovering above the floor as she watched the other girl sink down into a heap, gasping for breath with the pressure from her windpipe released. In the back of her head, Beetlejuice could feel Lydia prodding at him, trying to retake control. He forcibly kept her in the backseat of her head, able to vaguely view what was going on but from a distance where her volatile human emotions wouldn’t get in the way. She wouldn’t be able to force him out of her head anyways, so it really didn’t matter, but he knew she had a morbid sense of curiosity and wouldn’t trust him to tell her the truth if he kept the reality of what happened from her. And deep down, he knew it was easier this way. Lydia, for all of her dark, nature, still had one thing; human empathy. Beetlejuice was a demon, becoming human had allowed him to understand emotion on a level he hadn’t been able to before, but he hadn’t been human long enough to gain that intrinsic quality which set living people apart from the dead and demonic. He didn’t care if people died, death was just the step to the next stage of existence. Existence beyond death, in a mind numbing oblivion. No one got their just desserts, they just fucked off into nowhere, meaningless and alone. And Lydia, despite her fascination with death, despite knowing what came next, still keenly felt the sting of that almost permanent separation. In other words, death was still able to <em> hurt </em> her, and even death of an enemy was something that would affect her. He knew she’d had to go to therapy to get over stabbing <em> him</em>, and that had been <em> before </em> he’d reconciled with her.</p><p>So he let Claire live, partially because of that, and partially because torturing her was too fun to let death cut short. He watched Claire recover, and though she was trembling in fear, she managed to salvage some bravado as she stumbled to her feet,</p><p>“Y-you’re like, totally <em> crazy</em>!” she shouted through a hoarse windpipe and chattering teeth, “I am so like, going to the police!”</p><p>Lydiajuice chuckled as she watched Claire stumble off, “Yeah, you do that,” she said, and with a snap of her fingers all physical markers of what had happened to the blonde were gone. The pain was still there, but all external and internal damage was gone. So Claire could attempt to rat Lydia out all she liked, nothing was going to come of this except for Claire staying the fuck away from Lydia lest she risk extreme pain and suffering in return. Sure enough, Claire ran to the nurse’s office screaming and ranting about how Lydia had attacked her in the bathroom, but with no physical evidence the nurse simply told her to lie down because clearly the lack of sleep was beginning to cause her to hallucinate.</p><p>And just as easily as he’d slipped in, he slipped out. Lydia touched down on the floor, feeling a little weak in the knees after being off of and out of control of her feet for so long. Beetlejuice stood there, dusting off his dingy jacket before pulling on the lapels and looking very proud of himself. Lydia couldn’t blame him. It was a fine piece of physical and psychological torture without going too far. She knew what it felt like to lose someone and despite how she might have believed Beej’s claims to Claire, she didn’t actually want the Brewster parents to have to go through all that pain. Scaring was fine, pranking was fine, murder required a very serious rationale. He’d held back, which was commendable for him, but it didn’t solve the current problem, which was that due to Claire’s actions she still had detention. Even so,</p><p>“Thanks Beej,” she placed her hand on his arm, leaned up on her toes, and pressed a kiss on his cheek, her way of demonstrating gratitude.</p><p>“Really?” he raised a brow, as if not believing what she’d done, “If you’re gonna tease me you could at least unbutton your shirt a little. Claire’s tits were too fake to appreciate,”</p><p>Lydia rolled her eyes affectionately, “Cute,” she remarked, “But I can’t. I have to get to class, and then after school there’s detention, remember?”</p><p>Beetlejuice made a show of huffing petulantly, but as Lydia was about to draw away he tugged her back into him, “If you’re gonna be like that at least give me one for the road,” he said.</p><p>And then he dipped her down and locked their lips together. As gross, disgusting, and absolutely vile as the demon was he was an incredible lover in all regard. And that included kissing. Lydia moaned into his mouth as she felt the wisps of her short hair fall backwards and her own arm wrapped around his neck to both hold herself steady and deepen the angle of the embrace. She felt his tongue curl around her own as they traded spit back and forth. Her husband’s hands roamed her back and groped her ass and idly Lydia wondered what kind of picture she would make to any non spiritual breather who would walk in, her canted back at an odd angle with no support and tonguing air. But it was a thought quickly forgotten as Beetlejuice continued to kiss her.</p><p>Eventually though, they heard the bell ring. Which meant Lydia needed to get to class. Reluctantly, Beetlejuice let her go, now more horny than he had been just a few moments ago. And fuck, he knew he promised Lydia he wouldn't mess around while at school, but this would be worth it right? One look at Lydia as she readjusted her clothes made him feel it would be. But then, he'd already caused enough trouble today.</p><p>“Take it easy babes,” he said, “‘M gonna go find a way to entertain myself for a bit. See ya after school,”</p><p>And with a pop, he disappeared. Lydia was left standing there, shocked and more than a bit dazed. Beetlejuice… he, he’d just… and Claire… Lydia didn’t even know where to <em> begin </em> making sense of all this. But as the bell finished ringing she realized she’d have plenty of time. History class was a joke, the same trite nonsense which extensively covered american greatness and superiority while glossing over all the people stepped on and systematically oppressed to get there and keep the status quo. And in a small town like Winter River, even if it was in one of the most liberal regions in the country, prejudice ran rampant and passive aggressive. Lydia easily tuned out the endless droning of the history teacher to try and mull over what had happened. Yes, she had been mad at Beetlejuice for causing the mishap which had landed with her in detention, but she supposed he’d more than made up for it by probably ensuring Claire would never bother her again for fear of a real good old fashioned haunting.</p><p>He’d possessed her, without warning, and without even implying he waited for her permission. She knew why he’d done it, Beetlejuice had very few boundaries in general, but Claire had pressed one of the few buttons he had. She had implied that Lydia would be better off dead. Beetlejuice was very, very sensitive about the prospect of Lydia and death in particular. And considering how their relationship had progressed up until this point she honestly didn’t blame him. He’d met her when she’d been ready to jump headfirst into death to spite her father and reunite with her mother; then he’d been temporarily able to distract her from her desires she had jumped into Hell both to get away from him and to find her mother, only to be heartbrokenly disappointed. Since he never slept unless she asked him to, Lydia knew he knew of the nightmares that left her silently sobbing into his chest as he simply stroked her hair, unable to offer any comfort outside those motions. Putting death and Lydia in the same sentence was akin to making that threat, which was something Beetlejuice couldn’t abide by. She was his green card, and he wasn’t letting anyone or anything take that, take <em> her </em> away from him.</p><p>In Lydia’s own opinion he’d demonstrated remarkable restraint. She had been able to tell from his very presence inside her head how much he wanted to kill Claire. But he hadn’t. And if she was being honest with herself as she tuned out the teacher droning on and on, she actually had found it kind of hot. Really hot. Beetlejuice possessing her was almost always reserved for times they were alone together. His demonic juice would shoot through her nerve endings, affecting them in a visceral manner and sharing a sensation Beetlejuice didn’t normally get to feel. When he possessed her, Lydia shared her humanity with him as he shared his demonicness with her. She felt powerful, powerless, in and out of control, whole and splintered, fulfilled and over stuffed. Her body, even if it wasn’t as petite as it was, was only built to hold herself within it. Beetlejuice was not an extension of her one singular mind, he was an entity all his own, and a larger than life one at that. When he resided within her, when he used her fingers to bring them both pleasure, it was something nigh indescribable. She fed off the pleasure he felt as he fed off feeling hers. And when he had used her body to do something inhumanly possible, it did something to her. He had used her, without concern or permission, and Lydia had <em> loved </em> it. Maybe Claire was right when the blonde called her a freak, but it wasn’t something Lydia was particularly ashamed of. Her husband was filthy, disgusting, perverted and depraved, and he was everything she could want in a man. He respected her if she put her foot down, but there were certain circumstances where her honor was worth more to him than her passing irritation with him. Even now, she could remember how it felt to have him puppet her body, use it as he pleased; it sent tingles of awareness down her spine, pooling at her clit which began to throb insistently against her folds.</p><p>Lydia found that it was taking far more restraint on her part than it should have to keep from reaching down and touching herself beneath her desk through the cover of one leg crossed over the other. But she knew she had to resist, because there was no way she’d be able to really accomplish anything productive without getting caught. She supposed she could always go to the bathroom to take care of her little problem, but good lord what did it mean she’d been reduced to if she did? It was bad enough she’d already called on her demonic spouse once to aid her in this manner while at school. Now it was all his fault and Lydia couldn’t even  call on him to help resolve it. Not if she wanted to keep her pride in tact, which she very much did. Once was an accident, twice a coincidence, three times was a pattern and she was not going to let herself get past accident with Beetlejuice. Not in this circumstance at any rate. Because she knew her husband too well and it was bad enough he already followed her to school hoping for a repeat. No way in <em> hell </em> was she going to give in and turn that hope into an expectation. Lydia folded her arms tucking her fingers tightly in the space of her armpits to keep their twitchiness at bay and from being noticed. She would be strong, she would be resilient, she would not give in.</p><p>Of course, by the time school was letting out for the day she was seriously considering what price she’d be paying in exchange for meaningless pride. So far, it seemed to be her very sanity, and she didn’t have that much of it left to spare for this conundrum. At least on a normal day she could hold back this sort of frustration with the promise of her husband waiting to whisk her away back to their room where she wouldn’t be done with him usually until the next day. But thanks to his earlier antics and Claire’s pettiness, Lydia now had to stay for detention. Or did she? She’d held out long enough, she could argue. Why not take advantage of the supernatural abilities of her husband and skip out on detention. She was sure Beej could make it so that she’d served her sentence, or hell, he could probably make it so no one remembered she was supposed to have detention at all. Lydia bit her lip, squeezing her thighs together. While she wasn’t necessarily a fan of avoiding consequences, she typically didn’t let Beetlejuice intervene because he had a tendency to go way too far. But in this instance, his intervention was warranted since she could argue it was all his fault she was being punished in the first place. What the hell, Lydia ducked into a deserted hallway and whispered for him under her breath,</p><p>“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!”</p><p>She expected to hear the soft pop that accompanied his arrival from traveling through the aether. But it didn’t come. He’d disappeared and was not so inclined to reappear. Which was strange. Normally he champed at the bit to be let loose so he could have some fun. And especially in this context, where they both knew exactly what she’d be summoning him for. But she waited, and waited, and after a few minutes she was about ready to say screw detention, she had a demon to maim and possibly kill again. She was horny, and frustrated, and she just wanted his desecrating touch to make it all better and instead he was choosing this time to play hard to get. Lydia didn’t think he thought that she was mad at him for how he’d played things out with Claire. She’d been explicitly harsher before and he’d never realized he was the target of her ire. And she seriously doubted he’d gotten any more emotionally nuanced or astute in the last two weeks or so. Which meant he was doing this on purpose. On occasion he liked to try delayed gratification, claimed it would make the climax all the sweeter. But between the two of them self-restraint was sorely lacking, especially when they were preoccupied with each other the way Lydia currently wanted them to be. He would attempt distance, but she’d call and he’d come and then they’d both come at least once a short while later. But as she tried to sneak her way to the door so she could go home and give the demonic poltergeist a piece of her mind -among several other thins- she was caught by none other than Miss Shannon herself.</p><p>Damn.</p><p>“Miss Deetz,” came Miss Shannon’s condescending tone for the second time that day, “I certainly hope I haven’t caught you attempt to skip detention, surely you know I can always increase the duration of your sentence if that is the case, correct?”</p><p>“O-of course Miss Shannon,” Lydia replied through gritted teeth. She hated kowtowing to the headmistress, but if she complied for now she could always get Beej to help wipe the incident from her records later. For now, she needed to try and find her missing husband in order to do any of that stuff, “I just… forgot which room detention would be held in. I was trying to find it so I wouldn’t be late,”</p><p>“Hmm..” Miss Shannon stared at Lydia for a moment as if trying to decide whether or not Lydia was lying to her, “Well, I can see where’d you’d get lost, allow me to personally escort you to ensure that you get there without getting lost any further,”</p><p>Now Lydia wished Beetlejuice was around so he could pull a particularly nasty prank on Miss Shannon if nothing else. But, despite there being yet another carrot of opportunity dangling out there in front of him, Beetlejuice did not appear. Lydia sighed, resigned to her fate as Miss Shannon led her to the door and stood by it.</p><p>“Alright then, in with you now,” Miss Shannon said, motioning her hand toward the door.</p><p>Lydia sighed yet again, then hunched her shoulders and shuffled in. The door closed behind her, clicking shut with the finality of a death knell. Even though it by all rights shouldn’t be that way. Without even looking at the moderator Lydia found a seat and stared at the desk. Ugh, she wished her husband was here, she was so frustrated, so needy, and he was off doing who knew what?</p><p>“Well, well, well,” a scratchy voice caught her attention and caused her to look up, “Look who finally decided to show up,”</p><p>Lydia looked up from her desk to see him there, sitting behind the teacher’s desk. And that was when she realized, there was no one else in detention. No one but the two of them. All the thoughts came flooding back to her, and her neck became unbearably warm, her collar too tight, and she was sure he could see the flush spreading across her features.</p><p>“Y’know,” Beetlejuice said as he slowly moved his feet from off the desk and rising to his feet, “You nearly ruined the surprise by calling me like that babes,” he braced his hands against the desktop and leered at her, “Why the urgency, feelin’ a little… anxious?”</p><p>Lydia bit her lip and averted her eyes, an answer in and of itself. Beetlejuice’s dark chuckle rolled over her, “That’s my girl,” he agreed, “Now, come over here,”</p><p>Lydia went over and stood by the desk, looking at Beej as he settled himself on its surface. His stripes had become a bit more subdued, taking on the guise of a teacher in order to fit in. Instead of the blocky ones on his suit coupled with the thinner pinstripes of his shirt; he seemed to favor pinstripes overall, his suit now predominantly black and slightly less grungy looking, meanwhile the dirty striped shirt had been replaced with one of magenta, barely noticeable darker stripes catching the light. Beetlejuice discarded his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. And what was it about exposed forearms in button down shirts that was so intrinsically attractive? Lydia felt her teeth dig harder into her lower lip at the sight, and it didn’t go unnoticed,</p><p>“Hey now,” Beetlejuice’s hand caught at her chin and pulled the lower lip free, “If anyone’s gonna make ya bleed today it’s gonna be me babes. Now;” his touch travelled down her arm, “give me yer hand,”</p><p>She automatically lifted her left hand and placed it in his grip. Due to the circumstances of their marriage they had come to an agreement that Beetlejuice would enchant the wedding ring so that it wouldn’t be seen by anyone who didn’t already know she was married; a fun party trick to pull on douchebags who couldn’t take no for an answer. But he could see it, swiping a calloused thumb over the back of her hand, gently twisting the stone with the motion. Without even thinking about it her eyes closed, enjoying the sensations his cold, dead flesh always managed to wring from her. But, the pleasure was fleeting, replaced with a swift but sharp sting of pain which caused her eyes to shoot open.</p><p>In Beetlejuice’s hand there was a ruler, and there was a slight welt forming on the backside of her hand. He’d swatted her, with a ruler. She knew she was technically attending a catholic school but Beej was no nun so there should have been no reason for him to do that. Though she had attempted to jerk her hand away when the pain registered Beetlejuice’s grip had held fast and tight. Even so, her ardor was slightly cooled, and her ire on the rise,</p><p>“Beej, what the hell!” she exclaimed.</p><p>But rather than answer her, verbally at least, Beetlejuice kissed where he had marked her. The cool sensation of his kiss soothed the sting, leaving sparks of residual pleasure tingling along her skin in the wake of his lips and tongue. She felt the fire on a direct line through her nervous system, pooling in her hips and causing her core to ache and throb. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip again when Beej met her gaze and smirked,</p><p>“Punishment babes,” he explained, “You nearly fucked up all my plans for this afternoon by calling on me, so a bit of schooltime retribution is fair play, now ain’t it? A couple whacks with the ruler on yer hand. Unless,” he drawled, raking his heated gaze up and down her form as he tugged her closer and skirted the ruler’s edge at the back of her thighs, “There’s another spot you’d rather have take it,”</p><p>Lydia knew exactly what he was implying, but also knew he got off more to her asking for it herself. Not that she could complain at this point. She wanted him and she was willing to do just about anything for some sort of release of the lust that had been simmering in her all day because of him. If he wanted to do some student and teacher roleplay, who was she to deny him and delay the inevitable,</p><p>“Oh, Mister Lawrence,” she simpered, fluttering her lashes as she slowly withdrew her injured hand cradling it within the other, “I just <em> can’t </em> go home with marks on my hands, what would my parents say?” pausing, she put a finger to her lip in mock thought, “Well, this isn’t something I’ve done since I was a child but… I suppose you could use the ruler,” and here she grabbed one of his hands with her own and moved it to cover the curve of her ass over her skirt, “<em>here</em>,”</p><p>The corner of his mouth curled in a leering smirk at her answer, “Good choice,” he rumbled in reply, “Now how’s about we shoot for our lucky number babes? Thirteen strikes?”</p><p>“Mmm,” Lydia hummed.</p><p>“Good, brace yourself,” he ordered her, pushing the chair away to make space for her, his indication clear. Lydia moved in between, bracing her forearms on the desk and taking the initiative to flip her skirt up for his perusal.</p><p>Beetlejuice’s eyes lit up, “Well, well, well, what have we here Miss Deetz?” he asked her, taking in the bare skin of her ass with only the hip hem the indication she was wearing anything beneath the skirt, “Wearing such a wanton, licentious garment beneath your school uniform? Well,” he eyed her with a lascivious grin, “Seems you aren’t a model student at all, are you? Then again, if you were I doubt you’d be in detention in the first place,”</p><p>He slapped the ruler lightly against his own palm a few times, partially to test the weight of the ruler and how it swung, and partially to give her an audio warning that he was about to begin. But first, he needed to touch the round, perfect cheeks that were laid out like a feast before him. He decided to spare the rod, for the moment, and deliver a test blow with his hand. The slap reverberated from his hand through her body, causing Lydia to lurch forward a bit from the momentum of the impact. He regarded the bright red handprint painted across one cheek and admired his -quite literal- handiwork before soothing the mark with his icy touch. Now, it was time for the ruler.</p><p>“Count for me babes,” he whispered as he delivered the first blow. Lydia let out a strangled moan -equal parts pleasure and pain- before recalling to count,</p><p>“One,” was hissed through gritted teeth. But she let out a more pleasurable moan as he trailed his touch alone the singing red flesh, corralling the heat to rest in her clit.</p><p>And so it went. Beetlejuice smacking the cheeks of his wife’s ass in alternating strokes with the ruler, soothing each strike with his touch, letting his fingers wander lower and lower and at the twelfth smack dipping his fingers inside her core. She was dripping. Oh fuck, he was almost ready to say fuck the teacher/student play and take her there. But thirteen was one of their lucky numbers, it just wouldn’t do to skip it. So with one final blow he thrust his fingers in as she gasped out thirteen, moaning loudly and wantonly. His pace was fast and grueling because he wanted her to come at least once before he fucked her right over the desk.</p><p>Lydia felt the desperation build behind his movements as the smacks grew more rapid in succession, to the point where she could barely delineate the intervals between them were it not for the evanescent whisper of his touch to soothe her before the next blow landed. Then, when they reached their lucky number thirteen he abandoned the instrument altogether, pushed aside the fabric at her core, and plunged his fingers deep within her. Her muscles clenched around the intrusion as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of her. The spanking had already done a lot to raise her levels of pleasure, and the feeling of those filthy calloused fingers rubbing against her walls was sending her into overdrive. That coil within her wound tighter and tighter, with incoherent sounds dropping out of her mouth. Nothing that sounded like any comprehensible human language, but one that her lover understood all the same. It didn’t even matter he likely hadn’t sound-proofed the room and everyone still around the school building was likely hearing her getting violated by someone who was supposed to be an authority figure. The idle thought was almost enough to make her snort with laughter, were she not ready to break. With just one final rub coupled with a pulse of his demonic magic, Lydia came, and came undone.</p><p>Hearing her cry of satisfaction as she clenched around his fingers was causing his cock to strain at the fabric of his pants. But he removed his fingers and sucked them off, gently palming himself as he watched her slide bonelessly to the floor at his feet. He’d give her a moment to recover, because he wanted every inch of her open to enjoy this, no darkened closet to hide in, just them, a desk, and the cold light of day. Okay, so maybe he was overselling that last part considering it was more like the golden glow of the afternoon sun. Not that he’d complain, an afternoon delight was fucking awesome in and of itself, but this was school fucking, with a student and teacher roleplay. And while that wasn’t perhaps his <em> favorite </em> scenario, Lydia was certainly helping it move up the ranks.</p><p>When Lydia regained enough coherency to stagger to her weakened legs, she smirked back at him. Payback was a bitch, but she was a bigger one. She sauntered around the other edge of the desk, bracing one hand against it because she wasn’t yet fully recovered, and feeling the squish of her previous orgasm against her skin wasn’t helping matters. Lydia fluffed her sex mused hair, and then started trailing the hand down the curve of her neck, fingering the buttons on the blouse. With Beetlejuice around, the desire for front close bras had really become more of a necessity as he was more than likely to simply rip back closing ones completely off her body. With a single hand she undid several of them, down to the hem of her skirt, and with another deft flick her bra was undone. To complete her minor striptease as she rounded the corner of the desk to end up back where she started she flipped up the back of her skirt, reached under it, and gently tugged her panties down her legs, letting them fall to the ground where she slowly stepped out of them, one dainty foot at a time. Beetlejuice’s leering smirk turned absolutely feral as Lydia came to stand in front of him before hopping up on the desk with her legs opened wide in invitation.</p><p>“So,” she began, panting with anticipation, “You gonna come here or do I need to call your name again?”</p><p>“Naughty girl,” Beej replied, reaching down and undoing the fly of his pants. Out sprang his cock, and Lydia was salivating. She licked her lips and then leaned back on the desk, bracing her elbows and forearms against the smooth wooden surface as she brought her feet up to curl over the edge.</p><p>The desk was at just the right height for her to be spread out like the most depraved and delicious buffet. And lucky for him, Beetlejuice was <em> starving </em> . But which tasty mouthful to start with? Well, tits were always delicious, and Lydia’s were shaped like fruit; perfectly ripe handfuls with perky tips just <em> begging </em> to be suckled on. Beetlejuice braced himself on the desk, bending himself over her and attaching himself to one of her nipples. Laving the hardened bud with his tongue and gently abrading it with his teeth Beetlejuice relished the sounds of Lydia’s soft moans as they escaped her mouth. He felt her body dip as one of her hands threaded itself into his hair. She felt his nails scratch at his scalp and tug at the follicles, causing him to shiver in pleasure. God, she always knew just what he liked. She was so fucking good.</p><p>He switched breasts while his fingers plied her clit with stimulation both physical and supernatural. Not that she wasn't always wet and willing when they fucked but he wanted her absolutely soaked. She was overwhelming in terms of heat and sensation. Every time they came together, every dark, separated and twisted way they violated the taboos of society was a testament to how meant for each other they were. And it was overwhelming to feel the possessive nature in her movements, how desperately she clutched at him like she was her lifeline to the world of the dead. And the way her moisture felt on his fingers, at the tip of his cock as it brushed against her entrance, it was heaven. Heaven existed only between the legs of Lydia Deetz, and that was a fact. He’d seen enough of hell to know that everyone regardless of the life they’d lived ended up in the Netherworld, heaven had been nothing more than a nebulous concept he’d seen the dearly departed human souls talk about like it was the next stage, the ultimate goal which they’d fallen short of; but the truth was that heaven was no place a soul could attain, even if theoretically a god did exist. There was only the heaven one found for themselves and Beetlejuice had found his with Lydia.</p><p>With her sufficiently wet he pressed the head of his cock between her folds. The scalding heat was immense, surging through his cold decrepit body and going right to his nonfunctioning brain. Holy fuck this was the best, the added thrill of them defiling her in her school uniform, on top of a teacher’s desk, while she was supposed to be punished was absolutely intoxicating. And well, he could make the argument that she was being punished, just not in the way people expected for detention. At Lydia’s whine of desperation he knew he shouldn’t keep his babes waiting, but the thrill of making her insane, of driving her to want him in this moment just as much as he was always wanting her, the temptation of her denial was just too great. Gritting his teeth, Beetlejuice began slowly pushing his way inside her, centimeter by centimeter; only enough to barely perceive movement if one was coherent enough, which Lydia was not.</p><p>He wanted to kill her, she was sure of it. But it wasn’t in the normal way she’d come to expect of her husband where he fucked her so hard her heart ran the risk of giving out. This was the exact opposite of that. He was holding still within her, just barely within her might she add, and when she tried to writhe beneath him to get some friction for herself he simply held her hips steady  with some extra hands so all she accomplished was further frustrating herself. Her nails dug hard into the material of his shirt as it hung off his frame, moving to the hairs on his chest and scratching at him,</p><p>“Come on Beej,” she whined, not even caring about how needy she sounded. She <em> was </em> needy, she <em> needed </em> him to move, <em> needed </em> him to take her, <em> needed </em> him to fuck her absolutely raw so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk home and he’d have to carry her, “Move!”</p><p>“Patience is a virtue babes,” he chided her smugly, folding his original set of arms over his chest. Her hands gripped at him and she levied herself up to look him in the eyes,</p><p>“Fuck virtue,” she hissed, “If I wanted to be virtuous I wouldn’t have married a demon.”</p><p>“Kinky,” he smirked, “but not convincing.”</p><p>“Please Beej!” she whined, falling back against the desk as she panted, “I <em> need </em> it.”</p><p>“How badly?” he asked, looming over her once again.</p><p>“So, <em> so </em> bad,” she pleaded, cupping his face in her hands, “I’ve been wet for you <em> all day</em>.”</p><p>“All day?” his limited restraint was fast dissolving, but he had to know, “Since when?”</p><p>“Since you possessed me and taught that bitch Brewster a lesson,” Lydia told him, “I wanted you to take me there and then, but you disappeared on me. I’ve been burning for you ever since. You have no idea how <em> hard </em> it’s been not to touch myself in- AH!”</p><p>Her words were cut off as with a sharp snap of his hips he was fully seated within her. Lydia’s back arched up off the desk on reflex, the hands that had been holding her down having disappeared with her confession. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, a noise almost as beautiful as a real one. But he could do better than that. His thrusts were grueling, punishing, and Lydia could feel her back slide back and forth against the hard and unforgiving surface of the teacher’s desk. Oh, he was depraved, he was disgusting, he was… he was wonderful. And he was the love of her life. Her ghost, her demon, her everything. Lydia felt tears prick the back of her eyes as he pushed on, her head lolling off the edge of the desk as he pushed her further and further, higher and higher.</p><p>His icy touch was a balm against her feverish skin, the overwhelming contradiction of their temperatures combining, the very real sensation of panting harshly as they moved in tandem humanizing him in a way he wasn’t otherwise. Being dead removed only part of the visceral sensations, but none of the emotional ones. She could hear the grunts of exertion as he moved, hear through the animalistic noise to the desire that pushed him,</p><p><em> Mine, mine, mine </em>…</p><p>His, she was his. Just as he was hers.</p><p>The sounds of overwhelming pleasure filled the air as over and over again he pushed her, used her body for everything it was worth. Muscles went taut, voices went hoarse, the sun sank outside the school. And no one came to bother them. Perhaps it was due to Beej’s magical intervention, perhaps the detention room was so out of the way everyone else forgot about it. Whatever it was the sun had long since succumbed to nightfall by the time either of them bothered to notice. Not that the lack of disturbance bothered either of them. Lydia was content to have been forgotten, who needed a crowd when she had someone always looking at her? She’d never be invisible so long as Beetlejuice was around.</p><p>They lay together on the hard unforgiving desktop, Lydia’s bruised and slightly bloody body pillowed against that of her husband, who simply had a couple teeth and nail marks added to his skin. A contrast of how deeply alive and breakable she was compared to how dead and unchanging he was. A contradiction in a couple, life sending presents to death, who would keep them forever. Beetlejuice certainly would. He had long since ceased breathing, not particularly needing to in the first place but it was so easy to do when caught up in the heat of the moment and of Lydia’s folds. She brought out a humanity in him that didn’t otherwise exist, and in return he brought out the darkness of the dead that existed in her. But unlike him, she saw beauty in the strange, the unusual, the unwanted. She had been dozing on and off for how long he could not tell. Time moved differently for the dead, it could have been hours, it could have been minutes. Hell, were it not for the movement of the sun and the distinct lack of other breathers around he might have even said it could have been days. The only thing that mattered to him was Lydia in his arms where she belonged, especially after a thorough session of fucking such as they’d just had.</p><p>As she stirred, she nuzzled herself deeper into the crook of his neck and yawned. So cute, his little black winged, broken angel. His to taint and keep in her cage.</p><p>“Beej?” she asked through another yawn.</p><p>“Yeah babes?” he asked in reply.</p><p>“Take us home,” she slurred the words a bit together with how exhausted she was, but he understood it.</p><p>With one snap their bodies were deposited in her bed in the house on the hill. With another their clothes were in a heap somewhere on the floor. Normally he wouldn’t give a shit but if she’d been stirring in her own juices all day he wasn’t leaving those panties around for some other asshole to huff. A little twirl of his fingers and they were stuffed into his jacket pocket, save those guys for later. Settled in and realizing Lydia would need some rest and recuperation he decided to steal her phone and find the school’s number, emulating Charles’ voice and saying that Lydia was violently ill and wouldn’t be in for the next couple of days at least in a message for the answering machine. Belatedly he remembered he would need to strike the memories of Lydia’s getting in trouble from the minds of Miss Shannon and Lydia’s permanent record, but that could wait until after Lydia went back to school. Hopefully he would remember to do it before he remembered to do her because if he didn’t then all bets were off. Oh well, Chuck could always buy that particular piece of forgetting now couldn’t he? Satisfied with his handiwork Beetlejuice settled in with his wife and drifted off for himself, entertaining the passing hours with visions of all the adventures he and Lydia could go on now that she had a long weekend thanks to him.</p><p>BJ BJ BJ</p><p>They were woken the next morning due to a flurry of activity in the house, causing a racket which was loud enough to wake the dead, literally in Beetlejuice’s case. He sat up with a start, taking Lydia along for the ride. Covering her free ear with his hand he bellowed through the door,</p><p>“What the fuck is everyone’s problem!”</p><p>Instantly the door slammed open and found Barbara and Charles standing there. The tiny blonde was slightly behind the imposing and angry father -or at least he <em> would </em> have been if Beetlejuice had a concept of fearing death. But the anger receded for a moment as he took in the sight of Lydia, becoming relieved and then instantly becoming anger again when he saw his baby girl naked and in the arms of the striped idiot with the stupid hair. Barbara, for her part, looked absolutely relieved and aghast. Which, neither of them should have been, it wasn’t the first time either of them had caught Lydia and Beetlejuice in a compromising position by any means. Though perhaps it <em> was </em> the first time they’d been caught while not in the middle of Beej compromising Lydia.</p><p>“Sup Babs, Chuckie,” he nodded his head, then taking in the living man’s haggard appearance he added, “Rough night?”</p><p>Charles was already red with anger, but he seemed on his way to turning an impressive shade of puce at the demon’s prodding. Barbara put a hand to his shoulder before stepping around him and taking in the scene more fully,</p><p>“Beetlejuice,” she began, “Where have you two been?”</p><p>“In bed, duh,” Beetlejuice retorted, “Really figured you were the smart one Babs,”</p><p>“No, I mean…” Barbara sighed and pinched the space between her brows, “Before that; we were so worried when Lydia didn’t come home last night-”</p><p>“Well clearly she did-” Beetlejuice argued, halted by Lydia’s hand on his chest. A silent way of saying, “let me handle this”</p><p>“Sorry if I worried you,” she began though Beetlejuice smugly noted she made no move to extricate herself from his hold, “But there was a slight… situation at school and by the time I got done I just wanted to go to bed, which is what we did after I called Beej and had him poof us right into my room.”</p><p>Charles folded his arms, clearly not believing his daughter, “And those bruises are from… what exactly?”</p><p>“The uh… reason I got home so late,” Lydia slowly slid her gaze to the side, “See, Claire was being… well, Claire and unfortunately I took the fall, in more ways than one.”</p><p>“Oh Lydia,” Barbara cooed, immediately going to her and checking the rest of her over despite the possessive growl Beetlejuice emitted in response, “What happened? Where <em> were </em> you?”</p><p>“Well I was…” Lydia looked over to Beetlejuice and shot him a knowing look before turning back to her parental figures, “I was… in detention.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought. Thank you all so much for reading, and I'll see you all next time!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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